Page 337 of Kentrell

“The Whitfields built their reputation on legacy. Old money. Old power. Clean images. Political influence. They’ve survived generations of scandal by rewriting the truth and burying anyone who gets too close to exposing them.” His eyes cut to my mother, then drifted back to me. “But what they didn’t count on…was me. Staying this long. Playing their game better than they could. And they damn sure didn’t count on you.”

My chest tightened.

“You are a living, breathing scandal waiting to happen,” he said, blunt as hell. “You’re the daughter of a married man…conceived while I was building my name with their resources. Your mother’s past? Tied to my rise. Your entire existence is proof that their perfect little empire is a lie.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice like this was the final confession.

“They’ve covered up a lot over the years, Zoe. Bought judges. Silenced journalists. Buried bodies—figuratively… and maybe not so figuratively. But you?” His stare burned straight through me. “You’re the one thing they can’t erase. They can’t buy back the years they stole from you. Can’t expunge you from my bloodline.

And now that they know you’re getting close to the truth?” He shook his head slowly, giving me a look that landed somewhere between pride and fear. “You’re a threat. Not just to their reputation… but to their survival.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, fighting to keep my voice steady. “And you expect me to just toss myself out there—let the city do their worst while the Whitfield family’s name crumbles and yours rises?”

“It won’t be that way—it’s actually quite the opposite, Zoe.” Darius gave me a look I couldn’t quite decipher…something between hope and resolve. “Your life will change, but not in the way you’re thinking. You’re going to go back to living every day the same way you have before… walking into courtrooms, fighting your cases, showing up like nothing’s shifted.”

His voice softened, but his words landed like lead.

“You’re going to smile for cameras when you have to… attend firm meetings like usual… and let them believe you’re still in the dark. Meanwhile…” He paused, letting that one word settle thickin the air. “…I’ll be pulling strings they can’t see. Cleaning up every loose end that could hurt you.”

I opened my mouth to argue, to tell him how unfair this was—how wrong it felt—but he cut me off before the first word left my throat.

“The scandal of who you are to me will eventually hit the papers…” Darius paused, giving me that same calculating look I’d seen him use in depositions and press conferences. “But that’s only because I want it to.”

“Man, hell nah.” Kentrell’s voice cut through the air, low and full of South Side grit. “She not gon’ be carrying my baby and dodging media frenzies every time she wanna leave the house.”

“Baby?” My mama’s head snapped toward me so fast I thought she might sprain something. Her eyes widened as they flicked between my face and my hands. I caught myself picking at the seam of my pants, unconsciously turning my wrist just enough for my ring to catch the light.

“Y’all… Y’all are getting married?” Her voice came out thin, like the air had just left her lungs.

I opened my mouth, but didn’t even get a chance to answer before Kentrell spoke for both of us.

“Yeah. We are.” His voice didn’t waver. Steady. Certain. Like this was already carved in stone and stamped by God himself. “This shit was decided before all this, and I’m not going back on my proposal for nobody.”

“We wouldn’t never ask you to do that,” Darius said, stepping in like he could feel the weight of what my mama couldn’t bring herself to say. Her eyes stayed on me, scanning my face like she was looking for some sign that this was a phase or a rebellion. I watched her gaze drop to my stomach, then slide back to Kentrell, as if she was mentally stitching all the pieces together.

And I already knew what was running through her mind.

After my last visit with Jellybean… when she let Beanie slip—a name I’d only ever heard my mother say. That one word flipped a switch in me. I called Mama right there in the Whitmore parking lot, squeezing the rest of the truth out of her like a lemon… bitter and messy, but necessary.

She was still sour about it. Not because I dug up old skeletons… but because I’d gone and fallen in love with the son of her former pimp.

But as the French say…c’est la vie. And this? This was my life now. One I refused to let anybody control—not Darius with all his elaborate plans, not the Whitfields with their skeleton-filled closets, and not even my mother with her history of half-truths and protective lies.

Knowing what I needed to do next, I cleared my throat, pulling both Darius’s and Kentrell’s attention back to me.

“Look…” I started, exhaling slow. “I appreciate what you were trying to do—clearing things up, taking accountability, even… calling Kentrell and wanting to meet with me like this. I?—”

“I didn’t call him,” Darius cut in.

My head whipped toward Kentrell so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash. He was still sitting there, cool as ever, like he hadn’t just orchestrated this whole ambush with the same quiet determination he used for everything else.

“You called my parents?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him. And then it hit me. “You met with them… before this.”

Kentrell’s grin was slow, cocky, and absolutely devastating. “I guess we can call it even… since you basically did the same thing with my mama.”

And just like that… my heart flipped.

---